


Close Your Eyes

by 0justlisten0



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Other, sick!Liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:39:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0justlisten0/pseuds/0justlisten0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Louis scoffs and drags Liam closer to him, turning him and pulling on his shoulder, urging him to rest his head on Louis’ lap. “You’re ill, you tosser,” Louis proclaims, his fingers combing through Liam’s short hair, “and you’re going to let us take care of you. That’s that, so just shut it, close your eyes, and relax, Payne.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for two prompts on tumblr: one wanted a simple Zianourry fic, the other wanted a Liam-centric Zianourry with a sick Liam.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts, hm? I’m insecure. (Don’t know what for.) ~~I can’t believe I just went there, but I did, and there’s no going back, bitches. Boom.~~ Also, I am not British—I’ve never even been to Europe—so Brit-pick away, lovelies. Constructive criticism and correcting my limited British terminology so I can better my writing is more than welcome.
> 
> Also, I made a [shiny](http://sugarspiceandpurespite.tumblr.com/) new tumblr.

Liam whimpers, the sound tearing at his sore throat, and bends down to rest his forehead on the sink’s porcelain counter, sighing as the coolness of the surface contrasts with his hot skin. He takes a few deep breaths—more difficult than it should have been with his stuffy nose—to battle the nausea he is feeling. He lifts himself up again and squints into the mirror. He notes his unusual pallor, grimacing at how washed out he looks, and flips the cold tap, splashes his face, the chill of the water soothing on his too-warm skin.

 

Liam winces as his phone sounds, hurriedly silencing it when the ringtone exacerbates the pounding in his head.

 

_Leeyummm! Paul says we need to leave now if we’re to make it to the signing on time. The lads and I are already down in the lobby, babe. Come out, come out, and playyy! ;)_

 

Liam smiles a little at Niall’s message before typing back a quick reply, then grabbing a towel to dry his face. He takes another quick look in the mirror before heading out, grabbing his darkest pair of shades and some Advil along the way.

 

*

 

The signing isn’t as terrible as it could be, but Liam is still immensely relieved that it’s nearly over. Most of the fans are reasonably composed as they pass, only a few dozen or so unable to stop screaming and Liam normally doesn’t mind—it’s exhilarating and ridiculously flattering to witness the fans’ uncontrollable excitement.

 

They still have five minutes left though, and his head is killing him. His dark glasses are keeping the bright lights of the camera flashes and the Atlanta sun tolerably dim, but there is nothing to do for the noise. Liam turns his head, leans against the lad next to him—Zayn, he notes offhandedly—and nuzzles into the curve of his neck; elated cries of “ _Ohmygod!_ ” and “ZIAM!” fill the air when Zayn presses his cheek to Liam’s hair.

 

“You alright, babes?” Zayn murmurs. “Your skin’s practically scalding my neck.”

 

“’M fine,” Liam replies. “’S just hot an’ ’m a little tired.”

 

Zayn runs his hand over Liam’s back, comforting, as Paul comes forward to announce the end of the signing. Liam and the boys stand up, smiling, waving, and thanking everyone for coming down as they are escorted to the waiting van in front of the building. They all pile inside, settling in their seats and buckling up.

 

Zayn declares, “Liam’s ill.”

 

Liam frowns. “’M not.”

 

Harry and Niall exchange concerned glances, and Louis scowls. “And why the hell didn’t you say anything to any of us?”

 

Liam sighs. “’M not ill.”

 

Paul turns back in his seat to face them and stretches a hand out to rest over Liam’s forehead. “You’re warm,” he says. “And you’ve been wearing those shades all afternoon, so I’ll assume your head hurts as well. You should have said something,” Paul chastises. “We could have delayed the signing.”

 

“We’re going back to the hotel now, yeah?” Zayn asks Paul, who nods distractedly, already placing a call to a private physician.

 

“Let’s stop by a shop for now though, get him something for his temperature,” Harry says.

 

“And some sleep aids,” Niall adds. “He kept tossing about last night, so he probably needs them.” Liam feels his cheeks grow hotter at that. 

“And then we’ll take care of you,” the youngest boy says. “Bed rest for the rest of the day, Li.”

 

“I feel fine,” Liam tries to insist one more time, but it is ruined by a sudden coughing fit.

 

Louis scoffs and drags Liam closer to him, turning him and pulling on his shoulder, urging him to rest his head on Louis’ lap. “You’re ill, you tosser,” Louis proclaims, his fingers combing through Liam’s short hair, “and you’re going to let us take care of you. That’s that, so just shut it, close your eyes, and relax, Payne.”

 

Liam knows when he’s lost a battle.

 

He closes his eyes.

 

*

 

Liam loves the boys, he does, but to say that they ‘take care of him’ for the next few days is a gross understatement—mollycoddling, cossetting, and being all-around ridiculous is much more accurate.

 

(And it's undeniably, amazingly, absurdly, ridiculously sweet, he thinks. But that's not for them to know.)

 

*


End file.
